Pose Reviews A Movie. #22: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog (2008)

My diagnosis? Decidedly NOT horrible.

Ever since writing my second one-act play, Heroman!: A Play In One Act, Ill confess I've developed an inextinguishable adoration for stories involving obscure superheroes.

But I'm always willing to settle for tales about obscure supervillains.

My play, which I can't help but mention is now available for rent at GenX as part of the 2010 Laurier Fr!nge Festival DVD, centres around a self-proclaimed minor superhero who deals only with minor inconveniences as opposed to burdening himself with larger catastrophes.

Dr. Horrible, on the other hand, sets his sights considerably higher than the humble Heroman, despite their similar degree of obscurity.

With his ambitious 'freeze ray,' a weapon which allegedly stops time, Dr. Horrible plans to take over the world and win the coveted admiration of the ultimate supervillain, known only as Bad Horse.

Things get progressively more complicated for our anti-hero, however, as he deals with frustrations presented by his nemesis, the seemingly benevolent and irritatingly charismatic Captain Hammer, and the unrequited crush he has on his dream-girl, Penny.

Dr. Horrible may operate on a relatively simple fairy-tale-esque premise, but it isn't entirely predictable--and it certainly doesn't hurt that it's freakin' hilarious.

It isn't difficult to see where Dr. Horrible gets its wild popularity.

Joss Whedon and his brothers, Zack and Jed made Dr. Horrible strictly for online distribution. However, it was so popular that it ended up getting wide distribution on DVD.

Why?

Well, both the dialogue and the music is tremendously well-written, and Neil Patrick Harris takes a script that's already witty and clever and makes it flat-out funny.

What did I like most about Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog? I can't decide.

What three things did I like most about Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog? OK, that I can do.

1. The songs about Bad Horse.
-->You'll have to watch to see what I'm talking about, but these little ditties are classics.

2. Moist
-->Dr. Horrible's inexplicably sweaty sidekick, whose super power is (gasp) the ability to make people feel uncomfortably damp.

3. The Laundromat
-->This won't give anything away, but Dr. Horrible meets his love interest, Penny in a laundromat.

Given that Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog was originally intended for online distribution only, it's nice to see the Whedons revert to some societal roots with a more quaint, community-oriented origin story for the story's romance.

It might be a strange element to pick as a favourite, but it demonstrates that Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog has a surprising depth to it--it may not be Charlie Kaufman deep, but it isn't Judd Apatow shallow either.

Overall, Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog made me laugh a lot more frequently than many comedies I've seen of late. And at only 45 minutes, you can watch it twice--perhaps the second time with the creative musical full-length audio commentary, in which the Whedons sing about the making of the film.

Yep. Gooooood times.

Wendy's Films of 2010 #42: On the Town (1949)

The classic Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly combination, seen before in Singin' in the Rain, doesn't let you down here. Donen's past musicals include Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and Funny Face, both are among my favourites and On the Town ranks pretty strongly among them. I love watching musicals and discovering the origin of songs you've known your whole life, like On The Town's "New York, New York." Though the movie is about 3 young sailors on day leave in New York, my favourite character is by far Betty Garrett's Brunhilde Esterhazy. She's a sassy cab driver with the guts to go after what she wants, which just happens to be the boyish and somewhat clueless Chip (Frank Sinatra). She's boisterous, funny and clever - not the kind of woman you typically see in old Hollywood musicals. The boys are charming, and their quest for love in 24 hours is adorable. The music is fun, with great numbers by Kelly, Sinatra and their fellow sailor played by Jules Munshin, and I can see how some consider it one of their favourites.

Chris 2010 Viewings #21: Mamma Mia!

UK, 2008. Directed by Phyllida Law. Starring Amanda Seyfried, Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosnan, Julie Walters, Colin Firth, Christine Baranski, Stellan Skarsgard.

I'm increasingly fascinated by major stars taking roles in retreads of material they would never have taken part in back when the material was fresh. For example, I feel very sure that Liam Neeson would never have appeared in an episode of "The A Team" back in the 80s, but there he is taking George Peppard's role in the sure-to-be-fabulous big screen version. And back when ABBA were doing their spandex-clad thing in stadiums worldwide I don't imagine a big screen musical based on their song catalogue would have lured the young Meryl Streep to bypass Sophie's Choice or, hell, even Plenty.

But there she is in this movie, belting out the Andersson/Ulvaeus songbook with complete abandon, apparently loving every minute of it. So something rather fascinating has happened to the division between high culture and kitsch in the last 20 years. The general lack of good roles for actresses of Streep's age bracket may have something to do with it, though it hasn't stopped her from picking up her first Oscar nomination in a while this year (for Julie and Julia), and it still doesn't explain Neeson. The next few years should be fascinating, especially once we've run out of grade-A shows like "The A Team" to reboot and have to move on to the likes of "Manimal" and musicals based on the M.C. Hammer songbook.

Of course ABBA are miles better than Hammer, and their brand of cheerful pop lends itself rather well to something like Mamma Mia, where the plot is so insubstantial that no five minutes of movie pass without a new hit everyone knows starting up. It keeps the movie going at a decent clip, never really becoming boring even for someone like me who only saw it because the girls were watching. It's not a good movie by any acceptable definition, but it has a lot of spirit, helped both by the wise selection of catchy songs (except for two or three deep cuts and the inexcusible absence of "Knowing Me, Knowing You") and enthusiastic performances. Even when the performances and vocal performances made me cringe, I was filled with a lot of admiration for name actors being willing to sacrifice their dignity so ruthlessly onscreen. For that reason, even though Streep gives far and away the best performance, my MVP award goes to Pierce Brosnan, saddled with a singing voice only a deaf person could love, but who nonetheless puts it all out there at every opportunity and remains immensely likable in spite of, and because of it.

Chris 2010 Viewings #16: Cabin in the Sky

US, 1943. Directed by Vincente Minnelli. Starring Ethel Waters, Eddie Anderson, Lena Horne, Rex Ingram.

I watched this 10 days ago or so and have been dreading writing about it ever since. It's the kind of film that's a racial minefield, an all-black musical created mostly by whites. Packed to the rafters with African-American stereotypes most of us would love to see buried forever, but brimming with performing talent like few films can command.

Eddie "Rochester" Anderson is a lazy gambler wh0 gets shot during a high-stakes game. Perched on the brink of death, his life is temporarily spared because God appreciates the prayers and pure soul of Anderson's wife, played by Ethel Waters. Anderson is given six months to mend his ways, with Satan's son, Lucifer Jr. (Rex Ingram) and noble angel The General (Kenneth Spencer) trying to sway him to their side the entire time. Lucifer Jr. enacts a plan involving a lottery ticket and town hussy Lena Horne.

The problem is that, after over an hour of piousness, mixed with demeaning racist grammar like "I'm about the most miserabelest person that ever died! " from even the loftiest characters, the finale, in which most of the players have given themselves over to sin, evil seems a lot more fun. Waters is a truly gifted performer, but the conventionally-blocked and syrupy sweet numbers she gets to deliver on the homefront pale next to the wild tap dance of "Bubbles" Sublett. Spencer is stiff as a board as the General, but Ingram (the djinni from 1940's Thief of Bagdad) is riotously enjoyable as the devil's son. Not to mention that one of Junior's minions is Louis Armstrong, not given nearly enough to do, but blowing some fine trumpet and giving one of the film's better performances. Duke Ellington's classic early-40s band also appears in the den of sin at film's end, blowing great renditions of "Things Ain't What They Used to Be" and "Going Up".

Entirely too cringeworthy to be recommended, then, but loaded with many pleasure, some of them major.

Wendy's Films of 2010 #18: The Music Man (1962)

The songs are definitely the star of this one. The acting is fine for a 1960s musical, the story's flow was a little disjointed, but there are a number of classic musical moments and a wee Ronny Howard (if that's your thing). A magnificent barbershop quartet heads up numerous great song sequences, full of character, fun and unique beats, honoured by an Oscar for Best Music. The love story is a little unbelieveable because of the age difference, but there are countless films from this period when older male actors are paired with pretty young ones, heck it was part of everyday life back in those days. Shirley Jones is charming and beautiful as library and old maid-to-be Marian Paroo, and Robert Preston plays the sleazy salesman well. Overall, I won't say it's the best film musical I've ever seen, but it's worthwhile if you love musicals with great songs, which, after all, is sort of the point.

Wendy's Films of 2010 #16: High Society (1956)

I'm often weary of watching remakes, this one being of George Cukor's The Philadelphia Story (1940), with Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant and James Stewart, a film that I found particularly wonderful. Yet, High Society, turning Story into a musical, has the velvety voice of Bing Crosby, the magnificent Louis Armstrong, his band, Frank Sinatra, and Cole Porter's great score.

Many have expressed their dislike of this film, but to me it was like watching an old favourite, only with a new, just as talented cast. I must say, however, that I don't know if anyone will ever have the same chemistry as Hepburn and Grant, but I look forward to watching The Philadelphia Story again to see how the two really compare. The film emphasizes the importance of making mistakes and having fun, rather than attempting to keep up an impossible guise of elegance and poise. I do find it quite... ironic, that this would be Grace Kelly's last film before marrying Prince Rainier III of Monaco, heading toward a future filled with the constant pressure to be the image of grace and perfection. Ah well, what can you do? Enjoy Satchmo I guess!

Wendy's Films of 2010 #15: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)

People often think of Marilyn Monroe when someone mentions this film, but I must say that Jane Russell gives a much stronger performance overall. She isn't the blonde of course, but the title confuses me somewhat as the focus seems to be on the both of them rather Monroe alone. Later in the film, Russell's Dorothy Shaw so wonderfully mimics Monroe's Lorelei Lee that I didn't even realize at first it wasn't Lorelei on the screen. She takes the objectification of women and turns it on the head by displaying herself as keen, witty and strong, not afraid to give her opinion or admire a whole male Olympic team.
That said, Monroe is delightful and the two of them make the perfect mix of spicy and sweet, their dance numbers are entertaining and their costumes are gorgeous. This is one I'd recommend to any person looking for a bit of 1950s musical fun.

Wendy's Films of 2010 #14: Nine (2009)

First, I must say that I wanted to include about half a dozen pictures here since the visual aspects of the film are more flattering than the content, but two will have to suffice.
Judi Dench is a goddess, much like Meryl Streep. She's powerful, magnificent and full of awesome, and if it weren't for her, Penélope Cruz and Marion Cotillard, this movie would probably not even grasp at potential. As a whole, it's a jumbled mess, with songs that are pointless displays of "Ooo, look at me!" And I'm not surprised in the least. People kept telling me, left and right, how bad it was. And in a way, I'm glad I didn't listen. It was fun, visually stunning and had its moments of "Man, if only the whole movie had just done that." Take Cruz's introduction, she was clearly having fun doing it, which made it just as much fun to watch. The cast was almost amazing, with a few exceptions (Nicole Kidman, Fergie and Sophia Loren) and it made me sad to think that it could have been wonderful if someone had only cared enough. Holes in the script were evident and songs felt pointless at times; nearing the end of our screening the projector failed, and as the film began to play again it was clear what was going on in the story. I started to narrate aloud since the sound wasn't quite working yet and said, "I just can't do it anymore!" in an attempt to reflect the distraught Guido Contini's words. And just as I said "anymore" in a mocking dramatic tone, the exact same word came pumping out the theatre speakers: I had chosen the same phrase as Guido himself. This is simply a testament to the quality of the film as a whole. It's supposed to be overly dramatic, but I would have preferred at least a bit of something unexpected.

VOYAGE THROUGH THE STACKS

CASE NUMBER #00009

TITLE: Pink Floyd The Wall
TAGLINE: N/A
DESCRIPTION: Loosely based on the life story of Syd Barrett, Pink Floyd's original front man (who was kicked out of the band for his bizarre and disturbing behavior only to go insane shortly thereafter), PINK FLOYD: THE WALL stars Bob Geldof as Pink, a mentally damaged man who has gone from a hopeful child artist to a burned-out rock star drifting away from reality. [RottenTomatoes]
DIRECTOR: Alan Parker
YEAR: 1982
COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: U.S.
RUNTIME: 95 min
SUBTITLED/DUBBED: N/A
IMDB PAGE
ROTTENTOMATOES
REVIEW:

No film makes a stronger argument than Pink Floyd The Wall that life itself may cause Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. (I wonder after watching this, should pregnancy tests be accompanied by warning labels?) From birth to death, to the tyranny of war, school, parents, sex, disease, and social order, nothing in this film strikes without leaving its mark on the psyche of one "Pink", the central figure in a series of loose vignettes that serve as narrative.

I say "loose" because while each piece is a coherent fragment in its own right, these pieces stop fitting snugly together as the film progresses -- like a series of photographs laid over one another to give the semblance of a panoramic view. I don't mean to imply this is a bad thing: It's just part of this particular film-verse that things don't quite fit together in anything more than an impressionistic sense.

Because the point, ultimately, is for the music to tell a story; and while a single song can have narrative cohesion in and of itself, albums aren't expected to sustain that same perfect narrative all throughout. Nonetheless, to listen to a complete album, one expects an overall flow, an overarching mood -- and in emulating this aspect of the original medium, Pink Floyd The Wall doesn't disappoint.

In early scenes Pink is young -- he's lost his father to WWII, seeks out another father figure, has mother issues, is alienated by his education system. In later scenes, Pink is a drug and booze-addled rock star, jaded by fame and on the precipice of a mental breakdown. In fact, it's this breakdown which ultimately frames the film, with intermittent scenes pivoting around his colleagues discovering him after a show, semi-comatose in a wrecked hotel room he's reconstructed in his own, incomprehensibly ordered way.

And yet, the flow of Pink's life is not singular: Beyond the haunting, interspersed cartoon animation of Gerald Scarfe, there lies the counter-life of adult Pink as the head of a fascist organization (with its own, interwoven rock opera performances, if you can believe it) -- which has nothing to do with Syd's real life, but everything to do with richness of metaphor developed throughout the whole of the film.

What is this metaphor? Well, Scarfe's imagery is as good a place as any to elaborate on its nature -- the subject of which is all too often confused with the object in public discourse.

Of course, there's good reason for thinking the film is just a scathing commentary against fascist rule -- foreign and domestic alike. For one, the animation sequences are rife with German planes, the Union Jack, and skeletal corpses turned to crosses, to say nothing of marching black and red hammers, beast-like shadow-dwellers in gas masks scurrying for shade, the black eagle of Nazi rule casting its deathly pall over a red sky, and law enforcement bashing in the brains of a man cowering before an oppressive, life-taking wall.

Moreover, with tragic real life sequences clearly demonstrating how war destroys families (if you haven't got it by "Bring the boys back home / Don't leave the children on their own - no! - no! - no!", sung by a united front of returned soldiers with their wives and families at a train platform, you never will), it's easy to see how the subject of war and especially fascism dominates the film's imagery.

Nonetheless, fascism isn't the subject of these walking hammers, these rallying cries for post-conflict reunion: rather, fascism is itself the metaphor for something else. For what, you ask? For a kind of oppression that dominates Pink's development -- the ultimate oppression of his own mind in the gaining light of his adult life. Yes, Syd Barrett (on whom Pink is loosely based) suffered horribly from schizophrenia exacerbated by his drug and alcohol use, and his mental descent figured heavily into his exit from the band.

And if there's any doubt that this is the dominant metaphor of the film, you need only mark upon the counter-life wherein Pink is himself the fascist -- or the point in the animation where Original Pink stands trial after being "caught red-handed showing feelings / showing feelings of an almost human nature." Or what about the one very prominent oppression image that doesn't fit into the war paradigm -- the one in which man is, quite literally, a delicate rose, consumed by a vicious labial flower and soon after carried off in that same flower-turned-dragon's mouth into the wastelands of Wall-world? Yeah... unless I missed some memo wherein women as a whole joined up with other fascist elements of society, adult relationships are just another oppressive aspect of Syd's troubled state of being.

Which brings me full circle: Despite the regular, fetal/childlike representation of Pink, the "delicate rose" metaphor of his adult relationships (his aversion to sex from either groupies or his girlfriend), and the not-so-subtle suggestion that this emasculation springs in part from the lack of a father figure, the film carries Pink as a fragile male in a very strong, counterbalanced way (the surfeit of war imagery certainly doesn't hurt!). This is so masterfully carried off, in fact, that as you near the end of the film (hopefully with a deeper understanding of Pink Floyd's lyrics and the overall resonance of the album, The Wall) it's hard not to feel a little beaten down by the titular wall yourself, and with it all the things that just plain suck in life.

... Which is probably why a lot of people grasp at the ending of this film as a straw of hope. Okay, fine. Take the reprieve, if that's what you need. Let the images wash over you and be done with it. Just... try not to think too hard about what's about to happen to all those bricks from the wall.

RECOMMENDED VIEWING AIDS: Your full attention, and a healthy propensity towards experiencing "human feelings".

Paint Yer Wagon!

So, I never thought I'd say this, but Clint Eastwood is quite a good singer. I must say I enjoyed Paint Your Wagon, a musical from 1969 that not only incorporates a male chorus, but also a three-way marriage, bawds and Eastwood singing a romantic ballad. Lee Marvin is boisterous and fun, and Jean Seberg is just as beautiful as she was 10 years earlier in Breathless.

This may or may not be the beginning of a series of short reviews done by yours truly, but if it is, then I hope you enjoy them :)